Dog Years
by Spencer-Quinn101
Summary: This had turned into a pattern, Daniel discovered, that Hazel would walk out of the house between 30 minutes to an hour at dawn and dusk. She was supposed to be resting—she knew she was supposed to be resting. What was she hiding? From him?


**Dog Years**

A/N: Just a little drabble story of Amnesia. I'd read a few Amnesia fanfics in the past but no ideas came to mind. That was until I thought of Daniel, Hazel and [for some strange reason] dogs. Then _this_ little story came along...since it's a little drabble story I wouldn't call this my best work, but oh well.

Disclaimer: I don't own Amnesia or anything mentioned in this story—except for the dog—they all belong to Frictional Games.

Enjoy!

…

This had turned into a pattern, he discovered, that Hazel would walk out of the house between 30 minutes to an hour at dawn and dusk. She was supposed to be resting—she knew she was supposed to be resting.

This had turned into a pattern within only three days.

Maybe she'll go out again tonight?

He knew it probably wasn't the best idea, but he had to know what it was she was keeping from him. Tonight, he'd been pretending to study his work, in the hopes that she would sneak past without suspicion. Thankfully, it had worked this time. She snuck out the back door after looking around and her mind told her she was safe. That was when Daniel snuck out after her, and he saw that she was skipping to the old pens in the back yard.

What was she doing in there? Didn't she know it was dangerous in there?

He didn't want to stir up any footprints, for the sake of his father finding out. He didn't want another repeat of last week in the kitchen. When he made it to the pens, he saw his sister kneeling before a squirming bundle of blankets. It took him a while to register that it could have been a live creature.

"Hazel, what on earth are—?" he spoke up, but then stopped when Hazel jumped a foot in the air and twirled around, moving slightly out of the way. The sight of the squirming overspread before him made him worry a little about what their parents may say.

"Hazel?"

"Daniel, _please_ don't tell father about him," the younger pleaded.

"I-I won't. But…" He knelt down next to his sister to uncover the squirming bundle. The bundle under the overspread jumped up and a little pup came bursting out from beneath. It was an energetic crossbreed—one ear was flopped over whilst the other was pointed up. There was a brown blotch on its left eye and its right paw. The elder sighed. "…I don't think father would approve of us harbouring a mutt in the pens."

"We can't tell father about him because—" A few tears spilt down her cheeks. "I'm afraid that he might…" Daniel cringed as well at the memories of last week. He'd seen what his father could do when he was drunk, but after witnessing first-hand what he could do…

He knelt down before her and grabbed her shoulder. "Hazel, he won't find out about him—I won't tell if you don't."

"But what if he—" She was lachrymose at this point, scared of the memories.

Daniel cut her off. "Shh! He won't find out about _you_ keeping him—you know I won't let that happen."

The younger wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded, managing to pull off a small smile. Daniel turned his head back to the dog, who had opted for chasing his tail rather than listen to the two siblings.

"In the meantime, w-what do we do with him?" Hazel sniffled. Her brother crouched down and leaned on one knee before the pup.

"Well, we need to think of a name for him, don't we?"

"We should call him Salty!" she exclaimed softly.

"Salty?"

Hazel pouted. "I thought it was a nice name—I thought it suits him."

"No, it's…its _decent_." He looked down at the dog uncertainly, who looked back at him with confused green eyes. _"…but who calls a dog Salty?"_ he thought, raising an eyebrow at the thought of the name. He would have to ask Hazel about the name tomorrow. For the time being, they needed a safer sleeping quarters than the old pens—there were old broken rafters hanging from the ceilings, there was no way that this could be safe for him.

With a slight grunt of exertion, Daniel hauled the little puppy into his arms. "How much did you feed him?"

"Twice today…"

"…are you sure about that?"

A cheeky smirk ran across her features for a few seconds before dispersing into a more composed manner. "…maybe thrice."

That explained why the weight of the scrawny mutt was heftier than he had initially expected. The dog—for now dubbed "Salty"—nudged his arm against Daniel's forearm, while he held him closer to him.

"Come on, we'll go hide him somewhere else. He can't stay in here."

"You won't tell father?" Hazel asked, nervously. All she got in reply was a smile before her brother stepped out of the pens with Salty. It was enough to tell her _"I promise." _


End file.
